


Outsourced Solutions

by Nevanna



Series: Redefined Identities and Priorities (Magnusquerade) [3]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Blood Drinking, Identity Issues, M/M, Memory Alteration, Mind Control, Moral Ambiguity, Power Dynamics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-20
Updated: 2020-11-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:53:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27645103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nevanna/pseuds/Nevanna
Summary: While Martin sleeps, Jon fulfills his needs outside the Institute.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Series: Redefined Identities and Priorities (Magnusquerade) [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2021207
Comments: 7
Kudos: 40
Collections: The_Magnusquerade





	Outsourced Solutions

**Author's Note:**

> This story takes place very shortly after "Obstacles to Reintegration."
> 
> Thanks to Starshower for suggesting that I tackle this scenario, and to alliedwolves for beta reading.

Martin was dreaming again. 

Jon nestled closer, stroking Martin’s back as his whimpers of confusion and terror and _need_ filled the darkness of the Document Storage room. The nightmare was a jumble of Martin’s own memories and Barnabas Bennett’s: Peter Lukas’s features flickered into Mordechai’s, and Jonah’s face and surroundings blurred between the present and the past, as their teeth pierced Martin’s neck over and over.

Jon followed the pattern of phantom bites with a pattern of kisses, a map to lead Martin out of the fog in his mind, back to the waking world and the narrow bed that they shared. Only when the scent of his blood became too much, and Jon felt his own fangs sharpen, did he force himself to stop. Martin needed rest, and food, and at least a day to recover from blood loss, before it would be safe for Jon to drink from him again.

For the moment, Jon murmured reassurances into Martin’s ear, hoping that some echo of those words would settle in his mind, until Martin’s heartbeat steadied and the dream dissolved. Jon whispered, “Sleep peacefully for as long as you need to,” and pressed a final kiss to his temple before carefully extracting himself from the embrace. “I’ll be back soon.”

\---

Jon moved through Tescos as efficiently as he could, filling his basket with the snacks that he knew Martin and Melanie liked best, that they’d preferred after they _gave him what he needed, as they were supposed to…_ Jon’s gums itched, his skin felt too tight, and when he caught himself reaching for Tim’s favorite flavor of jerky, he pulled his hand back as if from a stray sunbeam, and nearly knocked over an entire row of packets.

Nobody else seemed to be shopping at this hour, and only one checkout queue was open. The young woman behind the till suppressed a yawn, counting the minutes until she could return home and curl up with her cats…

Jon shook his head again and tried to rein in his Sight. He felt as if he hadn’t fed in a week, although less than three hours had passed since he’d closed the most recent bite on Martin’s neck. Of course, in the intervening time, they’d also argued with Elias, and Jon had likely expended more psychic energy than he could spare.

If the checkout girl’s thoughts were mired in the monotony of a long shift, the cleaner’s mind was clenched as tightly as the hands that wrung out his mop. He’d been sleeping badly, unable to shake the dreams of an endless warehouse full of doors that led nowhere. Jon tracked him through the more normal maze of the aisles. 

When he pushed his bucket in the opposite direction, and through a door labeled _Staff Only,_ Jon followed him.

Several unmistakable heartbeats passed before the cleaner realized that he wasn’t alone in the storeroom, and his pulse sped up considerably. He didn’t manage more than a frantic, “Sir, you’re not allowed…” before Jon’s eyes sought his, and his voice and expression faded, but the frantic concern behind them only intensified. 

The scent of his blood was so intoxicating that Jon barely remembered to deliver a crucial command: “Stay calm.” When the last remnants of desperation faded to nothing, Jon stepped forward, adding, “That’s right, hold still,” and took the man by the shoulders, found the sweet veins in his neck, and bit. Dim memories of the Spiral-induced nightmare slipped through as Jon drank, but he only made himself stop when the body in his arms started to sag.

He closed the bite with a moistened thumb, as he’d done to his own thralls countless times. “Thank you. You’ll forget that I was here.” Jon made sure that the poor fellow could stand upright before releasing his shoulders, but not his mind. “And whenever you dream about the warehouse, you’ll forget about that, as well.” He wasn’t sure whether that would work, in the long term, but it felt like the least he could do.

\---

By the time the sky lightened, Jon was safely underground in the Archives. Martin slept soundly in the corner of Document Storage, and Melanie probably wouldn’t be in for some time. They would have a few things to discuss when she did arrive; Jon had already missed far too much while he was unconscious. Hopefully, she wouldn’t throw anything at him. Nothing that he’d seen or heard of her mental state, since he woke up, had been reassuring.

(Jon didn’t want to think about what might have happened if he’d sought out Melanie at Georgie’s flat and tried to feed. He’d made the right choice for everyone, and hadn’t caused any permanent harm. He might even have _helped_ that man, tangled in the mental corridors of the Spiral.)

Jon didn’t have time to think about that. It definitely wasn’t guilt that pushed him into his work, some of which had been waiting for months. He began his effort to sort through the statements that were piled on his desk, and sensed that Martin had joined him before he looked up. “How are you feeling?”

“Bit more like myself, I think.” Martin’s cheeks were stubbled and his hair was tousled, but he’d changed his clothes and looked well-rested, and his voice sounded like his own. “I don’t know how long it’ll last.”

“We’ll keep an eye out” -- Martin managed a half-smile at Jon’s pun -- “for statements that might help us answer that question. And I shall make sure that Elias doesn’t take any further advantage of the memories that he implanted.”

“I don’t like that it’s so easy for him,” Martin admitted. “I’d prefer to know who I’m supposed to _be._ ” _And it makes me even more of a burden_ , he didn’t say. 

“I think I know the feeling.” Jon took Martin’s hand and kissed the inside of his wrist. “And you’re never a burden.”

Martin’s pulse fluttered. “Do you need…?”

“I’ll be all right for now.” Martin frowned as disbelief, suspicion, and an icy finger of _“my master doesn’t want me”_ traced across his mind. “Don’t worry,” Jon added, more firmly. Did he put _too_ much force behind the order? Did Martin’s face and thoughts relax a little bit too quickly? “I’ll let you know when I need to drink from you. Can you trust me to do that?”

“Of course. Right.” Martin straightened his shoulders. “What unspeakable horrors of the supernatural underworld are we contending with today?”


End file.
